Hours Earlier

  Lucy and Marie milled about with a crowd of people deep within the underground shelter, trying not to feel too claustrophobic as they listened to the worried gossip of the people around them: “What d’you think’s happening?”, “A Republican attack?”, “I’ve never heard of a black laser weapon. And what about all those rocks?”, “Maybe a science experiment gone wrong?”, “I knew those war robots would turn on us eventually.”

  “It’s not robots.”, Lucy muttered, trying to ignore the stench of the underground cavern and focus on something more productive. Like arguing with strangers. The man who’d insisted that the advent of the robot invasion was nigh turned toward her sharply, asking, “Not robots, huh? Then what is it?”

  “Xenos.” Lucy said, quietly, “A Xenos threat known as the Kharnidd.”

  The Kharnidd threat wasn’t widely known about in the general population. The military was wary of the threat, but they hadn’t seen the need to draw the public’s attention to it. It wasn’t like they were keeping the Kharnidd a secret, of course, since the Kharnidd training dossier was available to all. Yet the only civilians who’d bothered reading the thing were massive military nerds or Xenos enthusiasts, for the most part. At Jordan’s urging, Lucy and many of his other civilian friends had also read the doc. Her brother’s friend had said, “Hopefully you’ll never need this, but knowledge is power. These guys could be a real problem in the future.”

  Lucy hadn’t connected this attack with the Kharnidd threat immediately. She’d mostly been terrified and trying to survive in the first moments of the battle. She’d been clued in by the soldiers themselves, who’d muttered something about the ‘Kharnidd threat’ when they’d dropped her off here. It was around the time when they’d gotten one of those messages on their Codices, so the dots connected themselves easily. Her friends and protectors were out there battling a vicious and powerful Xenos threat while she was down here, arguing with this guy.

  The guy in question narrowed his eyes in irritation at her before barking out, “Xenos? A bunch of dumb animals did this? No way. Too coordinated, and how would they even get here in the first place? It’s robots. The government’s been developing them in secret to destroy our enemies.”

  Lucy could not help herself as she snapped back, “You need high-grade AI to run high-powered war robots. The stuff we know about can barely exceed Epsilon class; even then, it’s expensive. The military might be hiding more advanced tech, but nothing on this scale.”

  The man sneered, “That shows what you know, kid. Everyone knows that we’ve run into higher-class androids while exploring Aeterna facilities. If they recovered one of those-“

  “Those androids were security androids. They were mostly destroyed when they were brought into custody. And even if they weren’t, replicating that kind of tech is difficult and prohibitively expensive. And more importantly-“

  “Ah, shut it, yeh snot-nosed punk!”

  The man was getting more animated as he rejected her responses, though before he could say anything else, a large hand clapped down on his shoulder. He turned to see the round, smiling face of Ken Cao, yet that smile had little warmth in it as the big man interrupted, “You look like you need to cool off, buddy. I know we’re all stressed, but I won’t allow you to yell at the little lady.”

  The man clicked his tongue and shook the hand off, pushing through the crowd and moving elsewhere. Ken leaned over and muttered to Lucy, “It’s okay, kid. Markus is one of the toughest fellows I’ve ever known, and I hear the apple hasn’t fallen too far from the tree. The soldiers are going to be just fine.”

  The big man had seen right through Lucy’s attempt to distract herself by starting an argument, and he’d diffused the situation elegantly. Lucy nodded, feeling a little contrition over her immature behavior, and Marie expressed her gratitude to Ken with a short bow. If he hadn’t stepped in, she would have, though the ex-navy man made for a much more imposing figure. Ken responded with a wink and a conspiratorial grin, asking, “I didn’t get the chance to ask before, but I’ve been curious. What’s this ‘Daniel Hardgrave’ fellow like? Jordan speaks highly of him.”

  Lucy brightened at the mention of her brother, before launching into an explanation of how he’d joined the Pioneers to help her. Lucy relayed a few stories about Daniel, then asked Ken about his own family. They chatted like that for some time, and the time flowed by smoothly before they were finally interrupted by a loud yell from a man who appeared to be a police officer, “Alright, people, listen up! The city’s battle lines are beginning to shift, and this shelter is in the wrong spot. We need to evacuate again. Line up and proceed this way in an orderly fashion.”

  There was some grumbling and more gossip as the people lined up, following the police as they led them through the tunnel and back toward the surface. However, as they did, there was suddenly a great rumbling sound overhead. People gasped in fear, but the police officer called out reassuringly, “Don’t panic, folks. The enemy is still a ways away. We have time.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  They did as ordered, for the most part, the large group settling down and continuing to follow the police. The policeman in question took a deep breath and turned his vision back down the tunnel. Despite the reassuring presence he was trying to provide, Mark Jacobson was no less terrified than any of the people behind him. He was only a low-grade Zeta class, making him nearly useless on a battlefield as brutal as this one. He’d been watching a video of the fights on his Codex, scanning the live updates and praying that the military could quickly repulse the attack.

  Those prayers had been denied when he’d watched the other shelters begin to evacuate, the higher-ups realizing they couldn’t hold the city’s outskirts. The shelters closest to the battlefield had been evacuated first, with their own shelter being ordered to wait until the others were finished doing so. The orders made sense, in a way. Staggering the evacuations would limit the foot traffic and lessen the opportunity for the civilians to inhibit the defenses or get in each other’s way. Still, Mark didn’t like sitting there and watching helplessly as others walked to safety. When the evacuation order finally came, it’d come as a huge relief. Mark had practically jumped at the chance to corral everyone and bring them back to the surface.

  That relief had been dinged when he’d watched video feed of the perimeter wall coming down just now, forcing him to take some time to calm the crowd, but he wasn’t truly alarmed yet. The enemy was rather far away, and their group was reasonably close to the new perimeter provided by the new shield. They should be able to make it to safety with a relatively short jaunt.

  All that hope came crashing down as he walked to the shelter's entrance. Or rather, what used to be the entrance. Right now, it was covered in rubble, apparently from the collapsed remains of a nearby building. They could try to clear the wreckage away, but that would be serious. By the time they emerged, the enemy would probably be right on top of them.

  In other words, they were trapped.

  …

  Gnar Tohrakin gasped heavily as It fell to the ground, having dragged Itself out of the range of Its human adversaries’ snowy power. Gnar cursed the fate that brought It to these circumstances, and the little fiend that had laid it so low. Its allies had abandoned It after driving the man off, moving to participate in the rest of the siege and leaving Gnar to Its own devices. Furthermore, It was too poor for the resources required to instantly shake off the weakness an Enhancement sphere brought when it wore off. It had taken some medicines to improve the recovery process and fully heal from Its wounds, but only time could finish the job and bring Gnar back up to speed.

  It could only sit there, replaying the fight over and over in Its head. Gnar hadn’t possessed the firepower required to go toe-to-toe with the enemy, and Its massive form had proven little more than a hindrance in the face of the enemy’s agility. For the first time in ages, Gnar regretted becoming a Behemoth. Had It been a Greater Reaver instead, It might’ve done better. Though, that human had been truly formidable, so things may have turned out this way no matter what. Gnar shuddered at the memory of that crimson visor and those glowing knives.

  It eventually got up and kept moving. If Gnar kept lying there, one of the Markons would likely see It ‘relaxing’ and come over to discipline It. Gnar would have to recover on Its feet. However, It didn’t roam for long before It came upon another battlefield. The area had been laid waste, the ground filled with craters in a broad expanse. At the center of all this devastation lay a dead single human and another of Gnar’s kind, a Greater Behemoth named Jokarath Blungosan. Jokarath was even more marked up than Gnar, Its own Enhancement sphere having run out as the remnants of Its Second Wind fought to keep It alive. Nevertheless, Jokarath gnashed Its teeth against Gnar triumphantly, calling out: “Weakling Torahkin, I have heard of your failure.”

  It contemptuously gestured at the human’s body, saying, “Have you truly found these little ones so fearsome? While you were barely evading death, I was triumphing over our foe.”

  Jokarath looked back at Gnar gloatingly before it leaned over to snap up the human’s body. It didn’t get the chance before Gnar tackled It.

  Jokarath let out a roar of surprise as Gnar hit It shoulder-first from the side, sending the Kharnidd tumbling over. Gnar set upon the other Greater Behemoth with a fury that sent every Kharnidd in their general vicinity scrambling in the opposite direction. Jokarath was one of Gnar’s longtime rivals, though they had been forced to set their rivalry aside at the behest of the Khargon. However, in the face of recent events, Gnar’s temper had flared up, hotter than ever. Anger and bitterness raged like a fire in Its system as It pummeled this accursed foe, all thought of consequences cast to the wind.

  Their battle was hot and short. Any of their brethren capable of intervening had either been distracted with other matters or weren’t willing to lift a claw to help Jokarath. Neither fighter could put up much of a defense in their weakened state. Both received injuries that would eventually kill them, though it was Gnar who struck the decisive blow when it tore through the back of Jorakath’s neck with Its jaws, killing the enemy instantly. Psionic power flowed through Gnar’s body, starting out cold then becoming hot as It digested Its rival’s Morphic stone. Gnar continued to consume Jokarath’s corpse, purple blood collecting in pools as more power began to flow through Its system. Then, when Gnar was on the verge of dying Itself, Its body began to change.

  Gnar felt Its blood begin to boil, Psionic power sparking alterations in Its genetics at a rate that transcended normal biology. Its body shuddered, rapidly regrowing flesh and bone. Gnar could see in Its mind’s eye where the process wanted to take It. If It did nothing, Gnar would grow even larger, legs lengthening even further before It toward above all creation. It would become a Titan, a pillar that could hold up the sky, and Its very steps would shake the earth.

  And yet, Gnar rejected this vision. A Mainline Evolution would cause It to keep all Its old abilities. Corpse Explosion was useful in conjunction with others, but it was mostly useless in one-on-one combat. Besides Shadow Punch, most of Its abilities did little to improve Its offense. Even Behemoth Projection was only useful for destroying large areas, not taking down individual foes. That crimson visor still dominated Gnar’s memories, pushing It to alter Its life path entirely. Instead of allowing Itself to grow, Gnar took control of the process. And It forced Itself to shrink.

  Its muscles condensed, hardening and increasing in explosive strength. It’s legs retained their lizardlike scales and claws, those scales spreading over the more humanoid portions of Its body, replacing smooth skin. Yet, Gnar’s torso retained Its chiseled, muscular quality even as Its arms began to shift. With the crunch of bone, they contorted hideously, before morphing entirely into long blades of smooth black bone, edged in a soft, bloody light. Its head contorted as well, retaining its draconic quality but shortening the snout to a sharp triangle. Two large, oval eyes remained on the front of the face, while another pair moved to the side, and another went to the back, for a total of six. Through this entire process, Gnar was restored to its full strength in a few short heartbeats.

  There, in the middle of that battlefield, the Kharnidd Executioner took Its first steps.